The Shadows On Our Walls
by EmbeddingAntibioticsInMySoul
Summary: Terrified by the prospect of marrying Lucius, Narcissa writes to her sister one night, thus beginning correspondence that will last the entirety of two wizarding wars.
1. October 26, 1971

_A/N: This summer Zoe and I decided to write this story and have only now gotten around to publishing and continuing to write it. It is a story in letters between Narcissa and Bellatrix from Cissy's 6th year in Hogwarts and continuing throughout their adulthood. I am writing from Cissy's perspective and Zoe from Bella's. We hope you enjoy our story! (And if you do, or if you hate it, we would love your feedback!) -Anna  
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**Disclaimer: We do not own any of the characters or the world of Harry Potter. We would love to but if we did it would not be nearly as amazing.**

**[Trigger warning- Rape]** (this applies to the whole story)

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><p><em>I've been staring at the reflection of the half moon on the eerily smooth and black surface of the lake for so long that my eyes are starting to blur, but somehow I can't bring myself to look away. The grounds are cool and quiet, and I feel perfectly alone, a rare feeling growing up as I have. But even as I think this, I feel cold hardened fingers wrap around my waist and I tense as an all too familiar voice breathes raggedly in my ear, "In two years you'll be mine, Narcissa," a single, pale finger brushes my cheek, sending unpleasant chills down my spine. "But why wait for that," he chuckles, the hand around my waist digging in a little deeper, "When I can have you right now?" I turn to him, and nod wordlessly because I have been taught to accept what is given to me. Because I have been taught that fighting is futile. And maybe because I think that if I submit to him, my future husband will stop acting so patronizingly towards me. For a brief moment I wonder what brought this on. He's never shown interest in me before. But then I notice the scent on his breath, which I hadn't even bothered to identify because it was so familiar to me: firewhisky. He was drunk. By now his hands were penetrating my robes, and the nightclothes underneath them, his fingers dug like claws into my flesh, and I cried out. He laughed, grabbing for more, lips crashing against mine painfully, tongue jabbing at my lips, demanding entry, and I could do nothing but allow it. And he laughed. He laughed as my clothes fell in heaps around me. He laughed as tears streaked down my cheeks.<em>

I woke up with beads of sweat on my forehead, shaking, and crying. My hair was tangled around my face. Strands of it stuck in the corners of my mouth, and I pushed it away angrily, hating it for being so similar to his. My stomach twisted, and I curled in a ball around it, silently begging my shoulders to stop shaking with sobs, and my eyes to stop producing tears. If Bella had taught me one thing, it was that I wasn't allowed to be weak. Blacks, she had said, were _not _supposed to cry. But I wasn't Bella and I couldn't help myself.

I didn't understand how she had managed to go through with her wedding so calmly, as though she was pleased to marry this man who she hated. Before the marriage her temper had worsened, she had screamed at everyone, and she had tortured me, as was her custom. There was a time when she took her anger out on everyone who crossed her path, but by then that time was past, and I was the only family member who fell victim to her physical abuse, and yet I was also the only one who she trusted. And she had told me that she hated him. Told me he was weak, and foolish, and didn't have the pride that she deemed necessary for someone of his blood status. But despite all this, at her wedding she had held her head high, and played her part seamlessly. It was strange. I had always considered myself the master of acting in the family. Andromeda didn't bother, she was proud to be an outcast, and proud to leave when she came of age. Bella was generally too unstable; though she pretended she chose to be the way she was, I knew that there were many times when she simply lost control. You could see it in her eyes. But despite this, she always played the part of a perfect pureblood aristocrat, and I just couldn't picture myself making it through my wedding without breaking down. Just the idea of standing before that man, staring into his cold eyes, and promising to spend my life with him was enough to make me curl further around myself, wishing I could just hide from it all, wishing that I didn't see that pointed, blonde-framed face smiling cruelly and aloofly at me whenever I closed my eyes.

Desperately trying to avoid thinking of Lucius, my thoughts turned to Bella's husband, Rodolphus, instead. He was a thickly built man, mostly muscle, with dark hair, and a small beard. He was shorter than Bellatrix, and about half as smart, but twice as stable. It wasn't that he didn't anger easily, but he could control himself. It almost seemed that he and Bella would make a good match, but they didn't. It is very rare for purebloods in families who arrange marriages to end up with someone they are actually well matched to, and it seemed I was to be no exception. There had been times when I had fantasized about growing up and falling in love with Lucius, and living happily ever after surrounded by blonde, pureblooded children, but those days were long over. I had been awoken from that dream with a slap in the face, just as Bella had always told me I would be.

Quite suddenly, I missed my sister. She and I certainly didn't have the most functional relationship, but despite her abusive behavior, she was a constant in my life. Someone who had always been there, and always would be there. She had shaped me into who I was, for better or for worse, and, inexplicably perhaps, I loved her for it. It occurred to me that I could write to her. While at first I dismissed the idea, because I knew it would annoy her, it took hold in my brain, and eventually I gave in and got up to find parchment and a quill, before quietly making my way into the common room where there would be light from the fire.

I settled myself into a black leather armchair, facing the glowing embers left from the fire, tucked my feet up underneath me, and dipped my eagle feather quill into the ink pot. Then I paused. What exactly could I say to Bella? After a moment of thought, I hesitantly began writing.

_Dear Bella,_

_I know you are busy, and probably don't want to hear from me, but I can't help but write to you. I'm sure you won't have the time to write back, but if you do, how are you? I do hope you are taking care of yourself, despite all the work. When I last saw you, you looked positively dreadful. No offence meant, of course, but you must eat and sleep if you wish to survive and continue to serve your master. _

_But this is ridiculous. I'm not writing to you just to reprimand you. I suppose you can't tell me much about the goings-on where you are, but perhaps you could tell me about Rodolphus. Are you getting along with him better now? I hope he isn't trying to control you the way some husbands will. I would pity the ignorant man! I can't imagine you have much time together anyway, being so busy and all, do you? To be entirely honest, I hope that is true of Lucius and I when we get married. You were right, as you always are. He is a simply dreadful man. I shudder to think of spending my whole life after leaving Hogwarts bound to him. But of course, it is my duty, and so I will somehow stomach it._

_On another note, will you be home for Christmas? I know it is still a couple months away, but I do hope you can make it. I missed you so much last year. There's only so much of Aunt Walburga's yelling that one can take on their own. Anyway, I hope you are a well, Bella._

_Love,_

_Cissy_

I looked over the letter, satisfied. It was short, true, but Bella wouldn't want to read a letter that was long and rambling. Some part of me wished I could tell Bella about what had happened by the lake, about how I had been having nightmares ever since, about how the prospect of marrying Lucius wasn't just unpleasant, but terrifying, and that Bella would comfort me. But I knew better. If I went to Bella for comfort, she would likely lash out at me. She would tell me to stop being so weak, and that it was my fault that Lucius had done what he did, and that I had to stop crying and being vulnerable, and start having the pride required of a Black.

Perhaps that was what I needed; pride. For a brief moment I considered not sending the letter, and going back to bed to face whatever my dreams threw at me with my head held high, but I decided against it. Maybe it was an act of cowardice, but I couldn't face that nightmare for the second time that night, and I really did miss my sister. Surely there was no harm in sending her a letter.

I rose quietly from the chair, cast a perfect disillusionment charm over myself, and slipped out of the common room, letting the dead silence of Hogwarts at night swallow me, as I had so many times before.


	2. November 17, 1971

**A/N: **So this is Zoe's chapter. Hi. Hope you like it. Sorry it's short.

**Disclaimer: Own Harry Potter? I wish.**

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><p>Alone. It was rare that I got to be alone anymore. It wasn't as if I wanted to be around people, most of them were scum or idiots. But my Lord had followers now. Obnoxious though they could be, it was true every recruit was essential. Numbers were good, they made us strong. I knew that. Nothing would succeed if it was five of us against the Ministry. And my Lord had to succeed. It was the only thing that mattered, that all the blood-traitor cowards and filthy mudbloods had to be exterminated, all those awful goddamned <em>people<em>...

But no. The people didn't matter now. Now the house was silent and for once I could just not think; I could get rid of the image of _his_ almost red-coloured eyes boring into mine, knowing exactly what I wanted, what he would not give. I could let white noise replace the sound of Rodolphus' pleas and rages.

The late afternoon sun slanted in through the thick glass windows and glanced off a stack of papers heaped on the mahogany desk in the middle of the drawing room. Seven generations that desk had been in the Lestrange family, Rodolphus said. I thought it was dreadful, just like everything else in this damned house. What I wouldn't give to be back among my own family relics, with a name that mattered. Not that I would ever insult my husband to his face. He was a proper pureblood. It was just... I had no need of him. No need of any of this.

But the quiet _was_ nice. I stood up slowly and crossed over to the papers. God knows what all of them were. Why did Rodolphus never have a house elf sort them? Lazy and forgetful, that man.

But then- one caught my eye.

Why on earth was _she _writing to me?

_"Dear Bella,_

_I know you are busy, and probably don't want to hear from me, but I can't help but write to you."_

Good penmanship, proper grammar, everything. The lamb. Was she crying while she wrote it? She always was doing that. Nobody else seemed to notice, but over the years I learned to look for the light colour in her cheeks, the way she hid her face. The things we Blacks tried to keep secret always got the better of us somehow.

I scanned the rest of the letter. It didn't make any sense. Pleasantries, fretting over me and how I had looked "positively dreadful'; just nonsense. Sweet, fragile words, like she had learned to appear.

But no. She was scared; that was it. She only ever came to me when she was scared.

"_You were right, as you always are. He is a simply dreadful man. I shudder to think of spending my whole life after leaving Hogwarts bound to him."_

So maybe she finally understood what it meant to be a woman of the family of Black. That's why she was fighting so mightily against this marriage. She wanted to be proud, independent, beholden to no one, especially not an arrogant prat like Lucius Malfoy. Could it be? My little Cissy? My Cissy who didn't understand that for the longest time I was just trying to show her how tough life was going to be. My Cissy who, back when we both still lived at home, didn't understand that I hadn't really meant to shove her quite that hard near that flight of stairs, or later that I had really been aiming for the wall behind her and she got in the path of my wand...

No. She wasn't that strong. She didn't want to uphold the honor of Black. She couldn't. She was just plain old scared. It was Lucius Malfoy and his poisonous charm that had her shaking.

Sometimes, she disgusted me.

Didn't she understand that marriage didn't matter? I didn't need Rodolphus, the idiot; the cause was what mattered. The cause and the Dark Lord. She could devote herself to him just as I had and everything would be alright, be ok...

But she wouldn't. She tried to be a sheep. Silly girl. Pale as a lily and oh-so-innocent. Quiet and lovely, and then I was the one they called insane. Always.

I decided to respond to the letter.

_Cissy,_

_I don't know what you expect from me. You caught me at a quiet moment. Your letter is a bit dated, I know; quiet moments are not common here. _

_Rodolphus is away, but when we were last together, he was a swine, as usual. I don't care, and I told you a million times, this marriage is all for the name. It doesn't matter._

_The Dark Lord is growing stronger, and so I won't be home for Christmas. Mother and Auntie won't expect me anyways. They know what is happening. We have things to do, my sister, things I'm sure you haven't even dreamed of. It will be great, the day our world is strong and pure._

_But you obviously had something to tell me, more than just your general fears. Those aren't worth sending me a letter after two years of no contact. If you need advice, I suggest you ask for it. I hope you remember I'm not one for riddles._

_Your sister,_

_Bella_

I'm sure she wanted more than that. But then, at the same time, she wouldn't expect it. There was no time for writing novels, no time for sentimentalities, under the Dark Lord's regime. That was something she had to understand. As much of a little mouse as she might be, she wasn't one to openly extol the virtues of keeping in touch. Of love. Love, which the filthy blood-traitors said was the only important thing, that it didn't matter if a pureblood went chasing after a Muggle, so long as they were truly in _love-_

I rose quickly, suddenly, from the chair I had been sitting in to write. It was getting near dark. If I wanted to send that letter I'd have to get an owl before they all went hunting. Where were the damn house-elves when you needed them? All hiding. There wasn't even the occasional squeak of a floorboard as they went about their cleaning, or whatever it was they did at this time. Sometimes it was too quiet.


	3. November 20, 1971

_A/N: Hey! Sorry we took such a long break from this story. Life seems to have a habit of getting in the way. We're back now though! And hopefully we will be able to publish new chapters more regularly. I hope you enjoy this! -Anna_

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><p>The ceiling of the Great Hall cast an oddly unsettling grey light over us as we ate our breakfast. I was, as always, surrounded by people, but there was no comfort in their constant chatter. It was impossible to follow anyway, because there was no way to keep my eyes from darting down the table to where Lucius sat every few seconds. I had created a bit of a game for myself to try to control it more. I would make a list in my head and try to finish it before I glanced at him again. At first I started with short lists, like my siblings, or my classes, but I had progressed some. I was about three fourths of the way through listing the curses Bella had used on me before I entered school when the raised hairs on the back of my neck overcame me and I turned to him again. Of course he hadn't moved. His sharp profile was turned away from me and his cold eyes were trained on one of his friends with a look of pretentious disinterest. I sighed and turned back to my toast, feeling only slightly more relaxed.<p>

I jumped about a foot in the air when the owls swooped in. This was another daily ritual, and by now my friends had become used to my constant nervousness. Of course, I wasn't used to it. One doesn't get used to constantly feeling like someone is standing behind you.

I wasn't expecting an owl to come to me, but somehow I managed to keep calm enough that no one noticed my quickened heart rate. I untied the letter from the owl's leg, forcing my hands to stay steady. _It's an owl Cissy. Get a grip. _It was Bella's voice, cool and calm and spiteful, that echoed in my head at times like these. It took me a moment to notice that it was also Bella's handwriting I was staring at. I had honestly given up on the idea of her replying, and I wasn't even sure I wanted her to. The letter I'd sent her was embarrassingly mundane.

I glanced around me once more, assuring that Lucius hadn't moved from his seat and that my friends weren't paying attention, before opening the letter and reading her short, impatient words. I could practically taste the disgust in her tone. She clearly had found my letter as useless as I had expected.

I spent the whole day wondering what I could possibly tell Bella. It crossed my mind many times to not respond to her, but at the same time, I really did want to tell someone. Every day I felt so extraordinarily alone, and after a time it made my bones ache and stomach churn. It was such a totally hopeless feeling, loneliness. As a child when that feeling had penetrated me I would find Bella. Even if she was in a bad mood and yelled at me for being weak, just knowing that someone cared enough to yell somehow made things better. Now I didn't even have that slim comfort. There was only the ever-present fear of some danger lurking somewhere behind my left shoulder.

After finishing a Transfiguration essay that I had put off far too long, I pulled the letter out and reread it for the seventh time that day. I was sitting at my favorite desk in the library (it had a wall behind it, and sturdy bookcases on both sides) and the smell of the lamp burning beside me and the old books surrounding me made the idea of telling Bella the truth a little less frightening. I lay out fresh parchment in front of me and dipped my quill in ink before realizing I still had no idea what words to use. All the same I started writing, in hopes that I would somehow come up with them as I went.

_Dear Bella,_

_ I feel I must apologize for my last letter. You are right, there was more I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how to without sounding weak. In fact, I still don't. And you must be laughing at me Bella, because I am so very ridiculous. I won't argue with you on that point. I am ridiculous. And I am also weak. _

_ I don't know how to write this letter, but I don't have time to rewrite it over and over again. I am sorry, but you'll have to bear with me. Or perhaps you won't bother. Actually, maybe that would be best. I know you always hated that I came to you when I was scared, so here's your chance to avoid me. Feel free to destroy this letter. I don't know how I imagine that telling you will make things much better anyway.  
>All right Bella, I will say it now. I was raped. That's what all this is about. Lucius was drunk and I was out in the grounds after curfew and… well… <em>

_ I'm imagining you laughing at me right now. The sick thing is, it's almost making me feel better. Perhaps I should be laughing at myself too. After all, we are to be married. It was bound to happen eventually. What difference does it make in the end?_

I paused there, quill hovering over my inkpot. I almost believed it. That I was being ridiculous and that this would be the end of my fears. That now I could carry on with my life the way it was before. But then I realized I couldn't remember what it was like to not spend every second afraid. I almost started crying then, but it occurred to me how disgusted Bella would be if the parchment was smudged with tears, and I simply couldn't write it again. I took a deep breath and began to write again, slowly and deliberately.

_ No. That's not right. It does make a difference. To be honest Bella, I'm not even sure what the difference is, but I do know that I can't go a full ten minutes without glancing over my shoulder. I am terrified. I don't know how I expect you to help. I am sure you are ashamed share my blood by now. Sometimes I wonder how I can possibly be a Black. It seems like all I do is show weakness. If only I could be more like you, Bella. Right now I would give anything to be so brave. _

_ Sorry for bothering you with this._

_Love,_

_Cissy_

I rolled up the parchment before I could reread it. I didn't want to think about what I was telling her, or about how distaste would curl on her lips as she read it. I knew that next I had to get up and walk to the owlery, but I didn't move. I sat still, breathing in the familiar scents. For a moment I almost fooled myself into feeling safe. But moments pass.


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